


A bond of broken chains

by MaethorialBelle



Series: Tumblr fics, prompts and drabbles [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, I'll mention which pieces are nsfw as I post them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaethorialBelle/pseuds/MaethorialBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts and drabbles about Cullen & Maerwynne's relationship that originate from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The commander's kisses

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the five minute fic challenge on tumblr. Basically, you have five minutes to write something with no editing after.

Cullen could count his kisses on two hands. Five from little Annie lotte, the girl with flaming hair who held the ocean captive in her eyes. The girl he took as his wife every day for three weeks straight, before she grew bored of him and began to play with her new mabari pup instead.

Three came from a templar, a young woman just as nervous as he had been; about those left behind, unspoken vows and incessant thoughts of failure. She’d come to him for seconds with a joke about how the first time, his _first_ time, hadn’t been long enough to truly count. After the third she’d disapeared with duty, and when she came to Cullen for what he’d assumed would be the fourth, she’d spoken of regrets and a fragmented friendship that neither of them truly wanted to piece back together. Thoughts of another soon soothed the sting, a mage whom Cullen had only shared smiles with. But she’d fallen with the tower, and thoughts of her silken skin became buried under the burden of nightmares and memories that scarred too deeply for Cullen to ever forget.

The last one Cullen probably shouldn’t have counted. He didn’t want to remember his attempt at humanity that had ended with his sobs against a stranger’s shoulder. She’d sat with him through dusk. Had let him sleep until dawn when she’d thrown open the curtains as a sign that he should leave. Cullen resigned himself quickly to his own touches against begging flesh that had his heart crying in shame afterwards. But he’d wanted to be alone, it’s what he’d deserved, and so he kept to himself for all the things that he didn’t think another could give him.

With time he’d healed, an eternal endeavour, and had found enough of himself to give his heart away to a herald. A woman whose own scars left her smarter and smiling. Cullen would have envied her if he didn’t love her so much. He held onto her now, feasting on her giggles as he stole kiss after kiss, not caring to count how many. 

Maerwynne parted from him with a sigh, smiling with closed eyes as though she were dreaming. “I may not have experience in these matters, but I’d say you’ve done this before.”

Cullen’s thoughts wandered to all those previous dalliances. From chaste childhood pecks on the cheek to the passionate tangle of tongues that led to more, or didn’t, but always left him feeling more alone than before he’d been touched. He pulled Maerwynne tighter, brow upon brow, breath warm against her parted lips. “Never like this.”


	2. Ask her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My second five minute fic challenge although I actually wrote this one first. Set just before the trespasser dlc.

“You should ask her.”

At any other time Cullen would have prided himself on the fact that he didn’t flinch at Cole’s sudden statement. As it were, he only felt feelings of conflict, the small velvet box seeming to grow heavier in his hands.

“She waits, wonders, worries about old words that wounded when she was young. _If he hasn’t asked within a year, then he only wants you for one thing_.”

Cullen started, pushing away from his desk to pace in front of it. “Maker’s breath. She can’t honestly believe that?”

“She doesn’t, not really. But what you know is real can be hard to hear over past selves who tell of tangled truths, twisted by torment and time.” Cole looked to Cullen then, haunting eyes peering from underneath the brim of his hat.  “You should know that.”

“I suppose I should.” Cullen stopped his repetetive steps as a war waged within him; conscience against curiosity. He sighed at the victor, then threw a questioning glare at Cole. “If I propose to Maerwynne, will she say yes?”

“You made the burden beareable. Now you make it harder when the brand of old magic makes her mourn.” Cole smiled, a wide grin that didn’t fit with his sombre sentiment. “You should ask her.”


	3. Prompt: "I just had to see you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's a very slight mention toward the end that something negative happened with Maerwynne's pregnancy. There are no details but it's worth a warning.

Maerwynne’s nose scrunched up on instinct as she stood squinting at the mid-day sun. She wore a smile as warm and bright as the summer rays that shone over the sunflower field she was about to lose herself in. Not that there was any real hope of getting lost any more, not with the well-walked path Cullen had made amongst the flowers just to make sure they’d always find their way home again. Still, it never failed to fill her with excitement, the thought of walking amongst the looming blooms for forgotten hours just like she had as a little girl; though the bee stings could remain as nothing more than childhood memories.  

The sound of distant laughter lured Maerwynne out of her reverie and along the winding track, the Ferelden soil dry and dusty against her bare feet. Regret had her rubbing a hand against the limbs left naked by her short summer dress, her flesh exposed to the chill of shade that swathed her suddenly. Salvation waited in the clearing ahead, however; in a sun swept patch of the field that they’d cleared for celebrations and nights spent making love under the stars, though those had faded out with Gwenevere’s birth four years ago. 

Impatience hastened Maerwynne’s steps as she rounded the final corner that would lead her to the commotion. She stopped sharp, not wanting to intrude, watching as her eldest daughter refilled Cullen’s cup with a dash of her famous tea, water with a squeeze of lemon, before settling back down on a large knitted blanket. Her sister, Rosalia, rested beside her, nestled sweetly against Cullen’s mabari hound who joined the one year old in a sound slumber. Cullen sat cross legged opposite them all, listening intently as Gwenevere told him a fairytale about a prince and his dog who fought bravely against monsters, and the hero who saved them all with her pretty green magic.

Maerwynne wasn’t sure what it was that had cullen’s gaze target her so swiftly, perhaps the scent of her perfume had carried along the subtle breeze. He shifted to his knees and crawled to Neve armed with a kiss for a readied plump cheek, a hand tangling in her golden waves as he stood with a promise to be right back. 

Maerwynne wanted to be annoyed at herself for causing a distraction, but irritation was a hard feeling to hold onto when her husband stalked toward her with a chain of perfectly linked daisies crowing his curls. It suited him, she smiled to herself, or perhaps it was the way the sun had kissed his skin or the grin that he just couldn’t seem to shake. 

Cullen stopped in front of her, as close as he could get with Maerwynne’s swollen belly between them. He snatched her rising hand away from it’s task of stealing his crown to instead smother it with kisses; not stopping until she tugged her lip between her teeth in an attempt to stifle a giggle. 

“The rules are if you’re not wearing flowers then you can’t join the picnic. Our pup apparently likes to give orders; I can’t imagine where she gets that from.” Cullen let go of Maerwynne’s captured hand to cradle her face gently between his palms, letting his thumbs sweep softly over her cheeks. “You’re supposed to be taking this time for yourself. In Ferelden we call it relaxing, might I suggest you give it a try.” 

Maerwynne could feel a joke about “how the tables had turned” tease the tip of her tongue. Cullen still kept busy, though now any reports that came from his work rehabilitating templars would be put down without a second thought in favour of bed time stories, braiding hair or playing a game of _Dragons vs Griffons_.

“I needed to ask you something about the uh- the leftover-” Maerwynne sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “Alright fine. I just had to see you. It was boring just sitting there alone and you _know_ I love watching you with the children.”

“Not all of the children,” Cullen corrected as he let his caress fall to her bulging bump. “You’re still keeping one all to yourself.”

“Yes, how terribly selfish of me.” The exasperated roll of Maerwynne’s eyes did little to mask her playful tone.

Cullen kept his lips quirked in amusement as he leant in to steal a kiss, parting from his wife only when his lungs begged for mercy. “You should head back to the house, if the pups see you they’ll want you stay.” 

“I _want_ to stay.”

“You _need_ to rest.” Cullen closed his eyes as he brought their brows together tenderly. “Please Maerwynne. I can’t do anything else for my child right now, but I can make sure you look after yourself. After what happened-”

“Alright, I’ll go.” Maerwynne didn’t need, nor want, to hear the rest of his sentiment. She knew the point he was going to make, it still stung as sharp as a bards dagger poised at her throat. “Just save me a slice of something, would you?”

Rosalia’s elated shriek cut of Cullen’s reply. They both turned toward their daughter who still sat snuggled against the hound, though now she was wide awake and tugging gleefully at the daisy chain that had fallen from her mass of raven curls.

“We won’t be much longer,” Cullen promised with one last kiss before he jogged back toward the clearing.

Maerwynne turned away with a huff to trudge back toward the house. Though it was certainly difficult to feel deflated when she could hear nothing but Rosa’s delighted squeals and Neve’s cries for Cullen to swing her around again and again. She would never dare complain, not when she had everything she’d always dreamed of back when the chantry’s chains pulled tightly at her ankle: a home, a handful of children and a husband who wanted nothing more than to give them all the world.


	4. Prompt: “Oh my God. You’re in love with her.”

“Oh my God. You’re in love with her.”

Cullen paused his pacing just long enough to throw an irritated glare in his sister’s direction. “I thought you came to Skyhold for a “friendly visit”, not just so you could tease me about my relationship. You might as well have stayed in South reach and simply written another letter.”

Mia shook her head, then blew at an errant blonde curl that tangled with her lashes. She pushed herself away from Cullen’s desk to come to a stand still in front of him, her lips pouted as she nipped at his cheek. “While I’d normally delight in that blush of yours, I’m really not teasing you.” Mia let her gaze fall to his hands, first to the one that rested on the hilt of his sword, then to the other that fidgeted by his side. “Just look at how nervous you are pup. You’re actually honest to the Maker in love with her, aren’t you? The whole marriage-and-a-mabari kind of in love.”

Cullen swatted at Mia’s pinching fingers before stepping around her to make for his desk. “She’s easy to fall in love with, you’ll see for yourself when you meet her.” 

Mia’s eyes, as blue as a summer sky, narrowed at her younger brother as he made himself busy with unsigned reports, anything to distract him from his eldest sibling’s scrutiny. “So, _are_ you going to propose to this Maerwynne then? You _know_ you’ve always wanted to get married Cullen.” Mia’s red-stained lips tilted in amusement as she snorted a laugh. “Do you remember Annabelle Lotte? You used to meet her by that golem every afternoon and pretend to rescue her from all manner of monsters. Then you’d have a little make-believe wedding, though somehow you always managed to slip away when she asked for a kiss on the cheek.”

The shared memory stole Cullen’s attention away from his work. He let himself relax for a moment as he dropped the parchment against his desk, chuckling as he perched himself upon it. “Maker’s breath. I remember, barely.”

The mood became weighted with silence, save for the shuffling of Mia’s feet against the stone as she regarded the floor with a solem frown. “The blight took her, you know.”

Cullen sighed as he lifted a hand to brush it against his neck. “The blight took a great deal from us all.”

Mia raised her head, the seriousness of her glare betrayed by the quiver in her voice. “It didn’t take you, Maker be praised.” The scuffing of feet outside the door to Cullen’s office had Mia clearing her throat and smiling again. “Here she is then. How shall I address her? Your worship, or inquisitor?” She grinned wickedly. “How about sister?”

“Mia.” Cullen’s muttering of her name was an unmistakable warning, despite it’s muted volume.

His sister simply scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “Relax Cullen. I wouldn’t do anything to risk your happiness.” Mia shrugged slim shoulders as the old hinges began to whine. “Well, maybe just _one_ embarrassing story. It wouldn’t be a proper family introduction if there wasn’t at least one of those.”


	5. Prompt: Spooning position

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is NSFW

Maerwynne hid her smirk behind the back of her hand as Cullen’s feather touch teased its way up her side. The commander laid behind her, bare skin to bare skin, all of him pressed hard and eager against her as he placed lingering kisses along her neck. He laughed against her salty skin as she bucked back against him, a day of sultry glances and, all too innocent, stolen touches fueling her impatience.

Maerwynne bit down on her gasp as Cullen smoothed his fingers back down along her curves to grasp her thigh. “What do you wish of me?” He rasped against her ear before taking the rounded lobe between his teeth. “Do you want me to make you writhe? Because I way be willing to do so.”

Her core begged her to beg _him_ for more: more of his hands upon her, more of himself inside her. But tonight she’d planned to make him work for every scrap of her pleasure, from smiles to sighs and screams of his name. Oh, she may have been impatient for him, but what better way to capture his ardent interest than to make him work for _hers_? At least, that was the plan. “If you’re of a mind” Maerwynne sighed, seemingly bored with his efforts so far.

Cullen lifted his grip from her thigh to sweep his thick fingers against her slit, revelling in the wetness that spread across his fingers as he dipped one, then two, inside of her heat to feel how ready she was for him. Sastisfied, though not nearly as much as he planned for _her_ to be, he pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance, his lips once again poised to whisper against her ear. “I’d hate to burden you with my attentions, if you’d rather be somewhere else?”

 “ _Cullen_ ," Maerwynne groaned, already tiring of her own game, “just- _please_.”

“As you wish" he hummed against her, his steady breaths turning to gluttural groans he pushed in, inch by blissful inch, until his hips sat flush against her ass. “Maker, will I ever tire of this?" He breathed as he started to thrust timidly, testing if she was alright. His movements steadily changed into sharp and short snaps of his hips, allowing himself to hit that spot inside her with quicker bursts. He nipped at a shoulder as Maerwynne lay unusually quiet, her normal squeaks and squeels of delight absent with each of his hardening thrusts. _This won’t do_ he thought to himself as he began to fuck her with a fervor that would only serve to lead him to a swift end.

Maerwynne let out a strangled sob at his feverish pace, her fingers lacing with Cullen’s so she could guide them to a breast, and then further up until his hand held her throat, without pressure or force, just enough for her to feel that he had her, to feel the trust between them that was a sexy to her as his face between her legs.

The sound of flesh upon flesh was maddeing to a man who was trying to hold back his pleasure. The moaning of the bed under their weight, it’s crashing against the wall fueling the fire that was steadily building within him. “ _Maerwynne,_ ” he whispered though her name were a blessing, a prayer to the Maker in thanks for this moment. “I can’t- I won’t last much-" The feel of her tightening around him stole his words and ripped a groan from his chest. 

Maerwynne’s vow of silence broke along with the knot wound tightly in the blazing pit of her stomach. She moaned for him, whimpered and whined as her sex squeezed around him, bringing him to his own juddering climax; his seed spilling inside of her quivering quim as she finally allowed herself a sigh of his name.

They laid unmoving, panting and content, still spooning upon their scattered sheets and askew pillows. “I know you like to be the spoon-ee,” Maerwynne managed to mumble eventually, “but I’m not moving.“ 

“That’s alright,” Cullen chuckled as he stroked gentle _I love you’s_ against the column of her throat, “but if we come under attack you’ll have to save us both."

Her answering laughter was rich and impish. “I always do.“


	6. Prompt: Dystopia

“Maerwynne!”

She turned at the call of her name, her lips falling into a easy smile at the welcome voice. “Cullen, what took you so-”. Her stomach fell through the floor at the sight of Cullen walking toward her alongside three blonde, curly-haired children, and a pregnant woman, heavy with another, who dawdled slightly behind them.

“I ended up staying in South reach far longer than expected.” Cullen turned his warm gaze, the kind that used to make Maerwynne melt into his arms, onto the woman. “I met someone there. This is my wife, Jane. Mia introduced us three years ago, and I’ve not been able to keep my eyes off her since.”

Maerwynne couldn’t drag her eyes away from the woman either. She was undeniably pretty, red-headed and petite, with skin the shade of Andraste’s grace and every inch of it unblemished by the sun. “You’ve been away this long because you got married? Because you had children?!”

“I-yes.” Cullen dropped his hand from his wife’s waist to usher Merwynne away with him for a semblance of privacy. “I had assumed three years would be long enough to avoid any..awkwardness.”

“Awkwardness!” Maerwynne barked with a laugh, though her mournful heart wept in its attempt to find any humour. “You never even wrote to tell me we were through. The last thing you said was “I’ll be home soon”. Three years I waited for you.” She stopped on a shuddering breath. “You know I would have waited forever.”

Maerwynne knew Cullen could be cold, had always appreciated that difference between them when her emotions spoke too loudly and she needed a voice of reason; but that was before he’d turned his hardened glare on her. “Maerwynne, what game are you trying to play? You ended our relationship long before I left for South Reach, and I’ve-.”

Maerwynne cut him him off with a wave of her hand. “What do you mean _I_ ended our relationship?”

“When you took your vows. I didn’t want to lose you, but I wanted you to live the life of your choosing.” His glare softened as it fell to the floor. “It just so happened that life was one without me.”

Maerwynne longed to reach for him then, to kiss away the saddened frown he finally let himself wear. That wasn’t her place anymore, she reminded herself, so she let her eyes fall to herself instead, to feast upon the chantry gown that had always filled her with fear.

She pulled desperately at the heavy fabric, her eyes growing crazed at the feel of it suffocating her skin; she needed it off, now. Maerwynne looked to Cullen one last time, then over to his family, her vows echoing in her mind at the sight of the life they’d stole from her. Maerwynne turned to run to nowhere, to anywhere that would let her breathe again. Her thudding footsteps against the stone were echoed by Cullen’s cry of her name.

“Maerwynne? Maerwynne! _Wake up._ ”

Her eyes flicked open to find Cullen looming over, a tender hand caressing her cheek. “You were mumbling in your sleep, something about chantry gowns? I thought you might be having a bad dream.”

“Are you married?“ Maerwynne asked, still half asleep and groggy.

Cullen’s laughter was a warm rumble against her chest as he tugged her closer, then rolled them so that Maerwynne could lie sprawled against his chest. “No, not yet,” he yawned, “though if you were going to ask that you probably should have done so before we started sleeping together.”

Maerwynne placed a kiss over his heartbeat, relishing the feel of it, the privilege of being able to do so. “Just checking.” She was almost lost to slumber again until she remebered an even more important question that needed asking. “Cullen, Mia wouldn’t happen to have a friend named Jane, would she?”


	7. Prompt: Doggy style

* * *

Maerwynne’s knees screamed for mercy with each fierce thrust that had them rubbing against the rug, though the heat pooling in her belly burnt hotter than any scorching skin.

Cullen let his fingers walk across her ribs, delighting in the shiver that had her shuddering stooped shoulders. He slid smooth palms across her chest until he was able to capture each dusky nipple, teasing and tugging until she ground against him. Once she was trembling, groaning as her hands twisted themselves into the fur beneath them, Cullen filled his hands with her breasts - almost too large for his worshiping hands - to drag her boneless body against him as he fell back on his knees. “Let me hear you say something filthy.” He pulled her tighter, his length still buried deep in her heat. “Something that will have us confessing our sins.”

“ _Cullen, please_.” Maerwynne panted, pleaded, head held to the sky in prayer to the Maker that Cullen would just bend her over once more. She was thankful for a lifetime of devotion to her god as he granted her wish without hesitation. She barely caught herself as Cullen pushed her fowards with powerful thighs before tugging her back when she scooted to far. 

The commander let his hands roam across her back, his voice as soft as his touch against her searing skin as he whispered,  “Humour me.”

His thrusts were sluggish, slow enough to let Maerwynne think, though her orgasm lingered just a few hard thrusts away; her mind focused only on chasing her climax and nothing else. “I-Your- thing…feels good inside me.” Maerwynne turned to Cullen as he stilled suddenly, her bottom lip claimed between her teeth and eyes filled with a fire that was quickly doused by Cullen’s barely stifled laughter.

“Forgive me,” he snorted, slipping out of her to fall against Maerwynne’s side as he clutched at his. “That was- not what I’d expected you to say.”

“Well what _did_ you expect? I’ve never done that before and I-.” Maerwynne collapsed onto her chest, her agitated scowl slipping as she chuckled alongside her love. “That was probably the worst thing I could have said, wasn’t it?”

Cullen shifted closer to wrap an arm around her waist and place a kiss against her shoulder; though it did nothing to hide his smirk. “It wasn’t the worst thing I can imagine. At least you made an attempt.”

Maerwynne rolled onto her back as she let out an indignant scoff. “If you’re so good at it Ser smooth-talker than let me hear _your_ wicked words.”

The flames from the fireplace beside them kissed Cullen’s skin as he moved on top of her, his rumbling laughter sending a shock to her core. “As you wish, my lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drabble is NSFW


	8. Prompt: Standing while outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is NSFW. I intentionally left the inquisitor nameless on this one though I imagined her to be Maerwynne.

They swayed together underneath the stars, his mouth against her ear, her back to his chest. Cullen’s hands left the comfort of her waist to blaze a trail down her sides, his fingers swirling on the skin of her thighs before he gathered the thin fabric that hung around them, hitching the material up until her ass was bared against him. 

His sigh echoed hers as he slipped himself inside, her name a sacred whisper, barely more than a hiss as the feel of her stole his breath away. They carried on their intimate dance watched only by the crescent moon, their moves straying from shuffled steps to gentle rocking against each other; moans and mumbled names mingling together to make perfect poetry that carried along the breeze. She shivered against him, a giggle following soon after.

“Shall we take this inside?” Cullen asked, punctuating his question with a kiss behind his love’s ear.

She answered in kind, turning to capture his mouth with hers, the kiss messy and shorter than they’d both have liked as her neck quickly protested the angle. “Come on then,” she sighed, still meeting him thrust for languid thrust, “we do have some furniture that still needs breaking in.”

Cullen smiled at her grousing as he left her feeling empty once more, her grumbles swiftly turning to squeaks as he scooped her against his chest, her hand grasping to the back of his neck and legs kicking playfully where they lay crooked over his arms. “Come then, my lady,” he smirked as he made for their home. “The dining table awaits.”


	9. Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trespasser spoilers. Set after Maerwynne’s arm has been amputated and she’s disbanded the inquisition. But they’re still at the Winter palace.

Maerwynne lay silent, bloodstained and bruised, not caring to celebrate a victorious battle when she knew the war had barely even begun. She wasn’t sure what kind of celebration it could be anyway, not when her friends were tired and downhearted; ready to scatter to the four corners of Thedas like misfit leaves caught in an autumn breeze. 

Maerwynne’s lids, already weighted with fatigue and regret, drifted shut of their own accord as footsteps scuffed against the stone outside of her door. She wasn’t ready for this fight, for a duel fought with worries and ficticious smiles, all bound together by a lie they’d both sworn never to tell the other. _I’m fine really, you don’t need to worry._

The door crept open inch by inch until she could see Cullen looming in the doorway. He entered with tentative steps, a hand tangling in the fur of his mabari as his eyes became bewitched by the fear in hers. He didn’t break away from the spell until he sat by her on the bed, his attention falling to the empty sleeve of her tattered shirt. “It’s gone,” he stated, his shoulders slumping with a ragged sigh that had the knot in Maerwynne’s stomach tightening as fiercely as her grip against the sheets did; but then Cullen grinned and her fingers slowly unfurled. “The mark has gone and you’re alive. I feared it was too much to ask for, but here you are.” 

“Here I am,” Maerwynne nodded weakly, “alive and free.” Freedom had never tasted so bitter, she thought, but Maker did her husband make everything feel that much sweeter. Maerwynne made to reach for him before realising the fingers she felt flexing were no longer there, despite the tricks her mind played on her. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do with all our free time,” she said with a wince, her voice still a raw rasp from violent sobs and mournful pleas.

Cullen moved up the bed to let Maerwynne settle into his side, smiling at the way she was sandwiched between himself an his - their- dog; who seemed just as protective of her happiness and safety as Cullen was. “I hear we’re needed in South reach. There’s a family there waiting to meet their newest member.” Cullen coughed into his fist at the Mabari’s sorrowful whine. “I uh- I mean _members,_ of course.” 

Maerwynne’s feet began to fidget against each other, her hair tickling his chin as she shifted to look up at him. “Maybe we could visit them another time? Perhaps after we’ve found a home of our own.” Her lashes fluttered with rapid blinks as Cullen kissed away the guilt that had her frowning. “It’s just, I’m not sure if I’m ready to see anyone yet. Anyone else, that is.”

Cullen’s rumbling chuckle rolled through her. “We can go whenever you feel like it. Or not, if that’s the case. We have all the time we need now.”

She wanted to scream, to lash out at his hope and cry that they had no time at all. That an old friend was going to rip away any dreams of a future and everything- everyone- in it. “We do,” she whimpered instead as she twisted to rest her head against Cullen’s chest, letting her tears collect behind closed lids until they spilt onto his shirt. “Let’s not waste one second of it.”


	10. Prompt: Sitting position

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is NSFW.

Cullen’s grip on the arms of his chair tightened until the old wood creaked. He didn’t dare blink as Maerwynne saunted toward him, wearing nothing but his wine coloured mantle and her favourite perfume. Her hips swayed to the beat of a silent song, one she no doubt sung to herself in order to keep her steps steady. A gulp bobbed in Cullen’s throat as she stopped before him, a teasing smirk tilting her lips as elegant fingers slipped their way up bared skin, stopping only once they reached the valley between her breasts where they slipped to the side to help shrug of the heavy cloak until it pooled around her feet. 

“Commander” she began, voice low and breathy. “Is this what you’ve longed to see?” Cullen’s head tilted backwards, unable to tear away his gaze, as she stepped between his open legs. “Or do you wish to see more?”

Maerwynne turned around before he could stammer out his yearning, her head angled toward him just enough to be able to see Cullen wet his lips, to watch as his eyes darkened with desire as she bent forward, leaving her sex mere inches from his face, his heavy breaths warming her already heated core.

The commander let his hands clasp together, let them hang between his spread legs as he bowed his head. He looked like a man in prayer, Maerwynne thought, like a man giving thanks for his favourite meal or a miracle come to life. Or perhaps both, she mused, as he raised his head with a wicked grin to bury his face amongst her folds. First he suckled on her swollen nub, sucking harder with each gluttural groan she made, his tongue becoming coated with her taste and his lips shining with her slick. Then he licked upwards, his tongue dashing across delicate folds until he parted them in one long stroke. While his left hand gripped at her generous hip, the right worked at the laces of his breeches, eagerly tugging at the knotted laces to relieve the aching pressure within.

“ _Cullen_ ” she moaned on a broken sob, just in time to echo his own grunt as he took himself in hand. “please, _please._ ”

“Sit” he purred against her heat before leaning back in his chair as she stood straight; his face twisting with pleasure as she obeyed his request and buried his erection deep inside her. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this” he rasped against her ear as her head lolled back against his shoulder. He placed his hands against her ribs, feeling the bounce of her breasts with each fierce thrust.

“Cullen” she cried again, “Cullen, Cullen. Cullen?”

The commander looked around the war room, eyes darting between the concerned, and annoyed, faces of Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra and the-

“Inquisitor,” Cullen said, voice thick with the imagined memory of her mewling atop him. He attempted to hide his absent mindedness, and the bulge in his trousers, behind a dry cough into his fist. “The reports. I-yes. Forgive me, I was-”

“Today has been quite long, no? Perhaps even a little hard on us all.” Leliana was good with her secrets and better with her lies, much too good for Cullen to tell if she were teasing him or not. “Perhaps we should reschedule our meeting, we can’t have the commander blanking out on us.”

He watched as the women wandered out of the room, though not before Cassandra grunted her disapproval, his guilt as heavy as his heart as Maerwynne smiled him a goodbye before she walked out of sight.

“Maker” he sighed, both embarassed and relieved, wondering how how quickly he could make it to his office; and how much of his fantasy he could mange to remember now that he had some time alone.


End file.
